ronnomania

I think a good rock band ought to have a dash of homoeroticism on stage. A little sprinkle.

Sensing his anticlimactic mood after the 1980 Floor Show, effectively the closure of 46 months of classic work, Bowie’s wife Angie and Dana Gillespie took Ronson out for dinner to cheer him up. A formidable couple, they teased him mercilessly just to watch him blush. “I told him: ‘The only thing wrong with you Ronno is you’re a sweet-talking Romeo,’” Angie recalls. “‘Look at the trail of broken hearts you’ve left across the world.’” He’d look at me with those big, long eyelashes and say: ‘Ooh, Angie, you’re so silly…’ He was so handsome and so divine. Mick was a car door opener, a hand-holder as you crossed the street, the first one to get the young lady a drink. He was adorable. You noticed he had big hands and he looked more like a surfer than a typical bulky English rugby type. I was fighting women off with brooms.”

David Bowie: hey mick you know that one song I just wrote? The emotional one about Marc Bolan?